


I Had Choices

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 18:50:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14983364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: From each of their own perspectives - Goniff, Craig, Meghada





	1. I Had Choices - Craig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Choices - that's one of the thing you're taught in officer training, you know, making good choices. Well, along with following orders, knowing and following the rules, maintaining a proper decorum in keeping with your rank and position, and a great deal else. Funny, I have trouble now even remembering what I thought was so damned important about all the rest, but making good choices? Yes, that I think about a lot. It was making good choices that led me to the life I have now, a life I wouldn't trade for anything.

Choices. That's funny, I was thinking about that the other day. I mean, I thought I'd made the most important choice of my life when I decided to join the military, become an officer. It's funny when you think about it; I thought that was my life, pretty well planned out, just learn as much as I could, become the best officer I could be, do my duty, put in my twenty at least. That would be my life, my legacy. Sure, maybe get married sometime, but that was just a vague thought, just because it was one of those things you're 'supposed to do', you know?

So for a while, my choices were in line with that major goal, 'know the rules, learn the way things were to be done, be the best officer I could be'. Then, something happened; well, it happened to pretty much everyone at the same time - the war. Then, though that goal hadn't changed, how I carried out that goal changed; how couldn't it have, with being an active military officer in wartime? North Africa was a major learning experience, and the gaps in my memory after that, they were more than a little disturbing. I had to rely pretty much on self-knowledge, that I was so used to doing the best I could as an officer, SURELY I'd carried through with that even if I COULDN'T really remember. It was a shock later to realize there were others who had very different memories of my actions. I was lucky; the guys, MY guys, found someone who knew the truth, was willing, with a little persuasion, to tell that truth; saved me from ending up in prison, I've no doubt about it.

But as far as choices, some of the most important ones came when I was put in line for the job with Special Forces, this special project. Looking over all the files of the possible candidates for this team, knowing I was looking for four strong, talented individuals, individuals who just might be able to pull off what we had in mind, I had to make choices. Got some flack for my choices, too, a lot of the Brass thinking they'd have chosen differently. Well, maybe, but it wasn't their butt on the line, and while I thought about their suggestions, I stuck with my own decisions. And I have to say, I made some damned good choices. Well, Wheeler wasn't my choice, never would have been, but that's another story. 

I couldn't have found a better, more savvy con-man than Actor, no matter what his real name was, and frankly, I still don't know it. It doesn't matter. Him they claimed I'd not be able to hang onto, that with his background he'd be off and gone as soon as we hit the Continent. Multi-lingual, multi-talented, widely traveled, he can carry off an impersonation impeccably, is smart, has a wealth of knowledge inside that aristocratic head of his, has the will and demeanor to act as a strong second when I need him to. Was a real womanizer, at least back then, nothing crass, all in a very sophisticated, ever so superior way, but still a womanizer; knew a beautiful woman everywhere we went or even anywhere we mentioned.

So, he's a bit of a snob, though perhaps not as much as he likes to pretend, at least not anymore. I think being around the other guys has let him loosen up some. Well, and maybe Lynn has helped some there too. Him and my sister, whoever would have seen that coming! I have to tell you, though, I'm more than pleased with him as a brother-in-law, and I'm happy to say that face to face with anyone who thinks it would be otherwise.

Chief was another one the Brass really had a fit about, between his being half Indian, no education at all, with him being listed as violent. But, you know, there was just something behind that so tight reserve, that stoic face and manner on such a young man, something that drew me, made me take him with me against all advice and persuasion. I've never regretted that choice. He'd probably be embarrassed, even annoyed if I said he 'blossomed', but that's the word that best comes to mind. Oh, it wasn't easy, and it sure as hell wasn't overnight, but gradually we'd see just a hint of a smile, just a little bit of that wariness in his eyes easing off a little.

I think, in the beginning, he really expected we'd take the first opportunity to leave him out there unprotected, cannon fodder, maybe just dump him somewhere if it got too risky to do otherwise; it took a few close calls before he came to realize that wasn't the way it worked, that we all went out together, and we'd do our damnedest to all come back together, in as close to one piece as was feasible.

I said he blossomed. Well, he went from being a total loner to being a solid team member, a solid friend and brother. He became like a brother to Meghada and her siblings as well, and I think that meant as much if not more than anything else; Meghada's father being Apache like Chief, her mother being part further back, it seemed to make the link even tighter.

From being just our wheelman, our knife expert? Everytime I turn around it seems he's studying something new, practicing to get better at what he's learned. Reading, chess, those were early on. But he watched and learned from Casino and Goniff too, and they worked with him and each other, sharing out their own specialized knowledge. He worked with Actor for field medicine and the art of the con, more herbcraft from Meghada, and I think probably some of the more arcane stuff from her, though neither of them want to discuss that; they both tell me "spirit stuff's not something to yap about". I've caught him listening in, sometimes taking part in the language lessons Meghada and Actor give Randy; I think he just might become pretty competent in French and Spanish, can understand some Italian and starting to work on the rest. Meghada tells me he can read all three at a basic level, working his way up fast.

Hell, even found him in the kitchen the other day watching Meghada put together some fancy dish, reminding her "didn't put in enough garlic last time, remember? And weren't you gonna try adding in feta along with the ricotta? Sounds like that'd go good." She just held up her hands and laughed, and went and sat down, waving him over to the counter, and damned if he didn't laugh and take over. Came out just fine too! Yeah, he was a damned good choice, one I'm proud I had the good instincts to make.

Casino? Well, his talents were easy to see from the first, though his background made a lot of the Brass uneasy. His family had been 'in the business' for some time, he'd grown up in it, had all the right connections on both sides of the ocean. It was predicted he'd continue those connections here, probably work both sides of the street. Well, he proved himself with the Mancinelli job; by-passed a golden opportunity to switch sides, risked his life to keep Goniff safe, probably Actor too. Damned good with safes, even the big ones needing nitro to get into; damned good with explosives in general; better than good in an old fashioned knock-down drag-out fight.

Brash and cocky, argumentative, Casino is my 'bring it all back to reality' guy, always reminding me of what can go wrong. No, I didn't like it in the beginning, him always questioning me, but you know, it DID make me go over the plans one last time, looking to see if he just might have a point, might be seeing it from an angle I just hadn't been able to. Saved our lives more than a few times doing that. Like I've been told by more than one of them, I tend to get a little 'enthusiastic' sometimes, or as Goniff puts it, "sometimes yer just too greedy, Craig!", wanting to accomplish more than is really possible. Of course, we've managed to pull off more than a few things that weren't really 'possible' according to anyone's reckoning.

And Casino brought something else to the table, something I wouldn't have considered, never in a million years, wouldn't even have thought it was important before. Meghada says he taught us all how to play, how to let loose and not let all the bad stuff overwhelm us. At one time I would have thought that was Goniff's role; of course, that was before I finally caught on to the fact that most if not all of that was just a role he was playing, not more than mask-deep. I think he and Chief, they needed Casino to show them the way on that even more than the rest of us did.

As for Goniff? What can I say? I chose him over all the objections, too. So many objections - "he's too small, too skinny, never be able to keep up"; "he's sneaky"; "he'll steal the fillings out of your teeth while you're talking to him"; "he's slippery, you'll never be able to keep him locked down, especially with him being able to blend in over there." Well, like with Chief, there was something there, a mixture of brash self-confidence in his skills, an eagerness, with a underlying hint of desperation. SOMETHING! Regret that choice? Never, not in this lifetime.

Goniff became our pickpocket and second-story man, and his confidence in his skills was totally justified; even Actor admits he's not seen better. But more than that, Goniff was our Mother Hen, there to lend a hand or just an ear, there to cheer someone when they needed it, there to cause mischief and distraction when that was what was needed. More than useless with weapons and hand-to-hand, at least as far as anyone could tell - well, for a long, long time. Of course, his foreign language skills were atrocious, what faint traces there were of them; still are pretty much. He can speak and understand a lot more now, enough to maybe get by on the little stuff, but he's never been able to lose the English accent, though he appears to be able to drop the Cockney whenever he tries.

His kleptomania is still an issue, probably always will be, and it can come out in the oddest ways. The glittery stuff has always attracted him, the shiny and sparkling little items - but that stuffed hedgehog? And that is only one example of the inexplicable items that somehow caught his fancy. I've learned just to retrieve and return, NOT to ask for the explanation. I tried that a time or two, asking, I mean, wanting to understand, and it made my head ache! Goniff, bless him, his mind works in strange and mysterious ways!

Of course, eventually the choosing between Goniff and me went both ways, but on a personal level, certainly not something I'd have expected to happen. But that too is something I can not, never will regret, not in this lifetime, not for all time. Because of him, my life is different, richer, more free and fulfilling than I ever could have imagined. That's really all that needs to be said, since that says it all.

Of course, soon I had to make other choices. The big one was, did I stand with the Brass or with my team? I know what the Brass expected, but as the team came together, as I found myself not just leading the team, but really being a PART of the team, I knew what the Brass wanted had to be tempered quite a bit. The men, they became friends of a sort, even as I made myself keep a distance I felt was necessary to continue to lead them effectively. When I found myself needing to protect them as well as lead them, as I found them going out of their way to protect me, that distance lessened, although we were all careful to keep up some semblance of discipline.

Oh, I still yelled at them, chivied them to keep up with the training and conditioning, still stymied their more creative outside activities (well, tried to anyway, and dealt with the damage when I'd been unsuccessful) - hell, I still do! They still had their fun, still (I'm sure) had a few outside activities they kept from me, still tried to keep me and Gil Rawlins on our toes. But we had each others' backs, whether on a mission or back at the Mansion - we had each others' backs.

And I had to choose whether to nip that budding relationship between Goniff and Meghada O'Donnell, the Dragon, firmly and completely once I'd learned of it. I came close, too damned close, to making the wrong choice there, and while I did come down on the right side, I made the choice for the totally wrong reason. I actually thought she would be a civilizing influence on the guys! I must have been out of my mind! Meghada and her family don't do 'civilized' any better than they do 'subtle'! Thank the Sweet Mother for that! Her being exactly who and what she is saved our asses more times and in more ways than I can tell you, probably in more ways than I was ever even allowed to know about. There are a few little incidents I have my suspicions about, you know.

And, finally, I had to choose what I wanted my life to look like after the war. Surprisingly, that wasn't so hard; I found I wanted what I already had, wanted it to continue. The guys, the team, Goniff, Meghada - all had become important to me, far more important than my old idea of being career military. So I made the choice, and with all of us working toward that, we've made it happen, made it a success.

So, am I happy with the choices I've made with my life? Frankly, I couldn't be happier!


	2. I Had Choices - Meghada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It shakes me, sometimes, thinking of all that might have been lost if my first choices had been different than they were. And when I consider that maybe I never really had any choices, that it was all laid out for me in advance, then I go cold with thinking of what could have happened if whoever had dealt the cards for me had done so in a different manner, if they'd fallen in a different pattern. Luckily for my mental state, I don't dwell on all that very often, just sometimes when Goniff and Craig are gone for too long, and it is too late in the night, too silent without Goniff's soft mutterings and Craig's murmurings in response. When I think how I once longed for silence, when the sound of voices rasped at my nerves, it is rather ironic. Listen, if you wish, while I tell you . . .

I had choices. Well, sometimes I tell myself that anyway. The thing is, I'm not sure that's really true. How much is choice, how much is fated, just what has to be? Especially for one of the Clan, especially for one titled 'ru Dragan', that is an interesting question. One thing I do know, if that first 'choice' had been different, the first AND the second, my life would be something quite different, and so would the lives of so many others. I really sat down to think about it once, pad and pencil in my hand as usual, trying to list every point, small and large, and I both scared myself and gave myself the worst headache I'd had in a long time, worse than the worst hangover I'd ever had, that's for sure. I determined never to delve into the matter so deeply ever again. Well, until tonight. The guys have been gone too long, this consultation taking them to more than four cities in three countries, and I never do well without them, not for this long a time. Strange, I remember a time when I didn't NEED anyone around, avoided having anyone around. 

Well, back to choices. That first choice? Well, it wasn't the one where I signed Contract. That was simply what one did when one became the proper age - well, either that or declare another choice, like my sister Caeide did with going to work with Maeve at Haven Homestead. But for me, acknowledged as ru Dragan, a Contract was the appropriate choice. I never expected to serve six years, two or four being more common, but as Kevin Richards remarked on more than one occasion, "that pesky war, you know, dreadfully inconvenient!" in that mocking prissing way he has.

No, the first choice was when I chose my Lair, against all my intentions and inclinations, chose the little nest of three cottages on the outskirts of the small village of Brandonshire. It had some of what was on my list of 'Wants', but not enough to warrant flying in face of all the drawbacks. Still, here was where I chose to settle. I still put that down to the Sweet Mother leading me; I'd never have settled here without some outside guidance, I'm sure of that. But that was a good choice, for that led to my second choice, extending a hand of welcome, a hand of friendship to a wiry, cheeky Englishman who came to perch in the shadows atop my garden wall. And that? Well, that led to everything else.

THAT'S what was scary. If THAT hadn't happened . . .  
.would AJ and Sheila Riley have come to the village or perhaps have perished in the bombing of the East End where they worked and made their home?  
.would Goniff or Chief have fallen prey to the brutality of Corporal Sampson?  
.would Goniff and Casino have died at the hands of the Miggs family?  
.would Chief have fallen at the hands of the outsiders if my brother Ian hadn't been there to take his side  
.would the Playmaster have brought Rebecka Standish to ruin without Gil and Casino and Goniff and the rest stepping in, and where would that have left Rebecka and Gil, now so happy together  
.would Ian have met Jeffrey, Michael have met Julie? What about Kevin and his weather-change and newfound happiness? .would Peter have died in that cave at the hands of the rogues, leaving Caeide to follow him on The Long Road?  
.what about Lizzie? Would she have ended up just one more broken and battered statistic?

And me, Meghada ru Dragan, would I have slid off into the mist like so many of my kind have done before, isolated, unable to bear the sound of another's voice, another's touch? 

On and on it goes, one event after another, all leading back to those two choices. Now, sitting here at The Cottages, late at night sipping at my drink, doodling on the paper in front of me, it frightens me all over again. On and on and on and on . . .

And my saviors arrive, just as I've worked myself into a cold sweat. Goniff and Craig coming through that garden gate, finally back from that latest consultation, Goniff complaining once again, "and I STILL don't see why we 'ave to give it back! Took a lot a work, it did, snaffling that . . . ", hearing the familiar retort, "yes, and a lot of work to make sure you didn't get caught with that little trinket! If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times, stick with the target, Goniff!"

They stop as they come through the door, seeing me sitting there in the darkness, me not needing much light even to read or write, even on the darkest night. "Sitting in the dark again, 'Gaida!" I get scolded as I get pulled up into warm arms, to receive even warmer kisses.

Once the lights are turned up, glasses fetched and new drinks poured, they get a glance at what I've put down on paper, and I get scolded anew.

"But you DID choose Brandonshire, you DID choose to bring me down from that wall, luv. You've worked yourself into a tizzy, thinking about what might 'ave gone wrong. Didn't 'appen, any of that; put it out of your mind," I get from Goniff.

From Craig, well, he understands better, I think; I think there are times when he gets the cold sweats too, thinking about how it could have all gone wrong so many times in so many ways. From him, I get another hard and reassuring embrace, "just thank the Sweet Mother you made the right choices, Meghada; I know I do, every blessed day!"

And I know they're right, both of them, and I tear up the paper, discard all the 'might have beens' that didn't happen, and offer up my own thanks to the Sweet Mother for what we've been given, based on her guidance to me in making those two vital choices.


	3. I Had Choices - Goniff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I made the choice a ruddy long time ago, to learn to make masks that would let me be someone else, someone better able to take care of 'imself. Learned to make good ones, too, and most never questioned any of them. But making the choice to take some of those masks off? That was just as big a choice, maybe even 'arder in some ways. Cause, what would 'appen if I took off all the masks and found out there wasn't anyone left underneath anymore? Deciding to go ahead anyway, to drop my masks, one by one, in that basket inside Meghada's kitchen door? One of the best choices I've made in my life, easy, one of the best! If I 'adn't done that, well, don't know where I'd be today, but probably not 'ere at The Cottages, with my loves, my brothers, my family. And that, that's not something I even want to think about!

I 'ad choices, acourse I did; well, everybody does, mostly. Made choices all my life, nothing new about it. Some were bad, like deciding to do that job in Brooklyn 'eights what ended up with me being in Sing Sing, with the eye of the Marston bunch on me way too close. Some were good, like taking Lieutenant Craig Garrison up on his offer, me doing a job for 'im and the army in return for a parole, even if it did turn out the Brass pulled a fast one and turned it into the duration plus six months. Some, well, some were the best of what was available at the time, and that makes up a ruddy lot of the rest, if you keep in mind that the 'best of what is available' can still be pretty bleedin bad. Try growin up in London's East End, try spending a few years in prison, you'll see what I mean right quick.

But making the choice to take off my masks at that cottage in Brandonshire, England, that was one of the best choices I ever made, the one that made the biggest difference in my life. That's the one that brought me the loves of my life, the choice that changed pretty much everything. Yes, loves, two of them, and I'd not 'ave it any other way, for all I always thought I wanted a simple, uncomplicated life. No, don't bother asking me why they want me, Goniff, thief, pickpocket, second story man, all quite-a-bit less than six-foot of a skinny blond Cockney with no real education or high-toned airs about me; they just do. Just accept it; it's what I finally 'ad to do. Sure as 'ell aint no understandin' it!

Now, what you DO need to understand, it wasn't an easy choice to make; I've worn those masks, one on top of another on top of another, not even sure I know 'ow many different ones there are, ever since I was just a tike. See, in the East End, you've got to learn 'ow to take care of yourself, 'ow to survive. Ain't an easy life there, and those that prey on others, well, there's plenty of those. And when you're littler, like me, and always look younger than you are, with the blond 'air and blue eyes and such, you're just right off at risk. Sometimes you can protect yourself, sometimes you can't. Decided though, when I turned thirteen, I'd find better ways to get that job done, and I found just 'ow much the masks could 'elp.

See, the bigger ones, the ones with power, they don't much bother to look out for the littler ones, cept if the littler ones were useful somehow, useful but not a threat. So I set out learning 'ow to be useful. Sometimes it was by making them laugh, or making them feel important, or by stealing stuff for them, or things like that. I've good 'ands, can lift most anything without anyone knowing it. Can climb like a squirrel, so second story work came as a natural. And being small, I can get into places others can't.

The masks, well, those change who people see, hide what I don't want people to see; there's a lot I never wanted people to see, that would be dangerous for me to let them see. Some things I've done, some parts of me, well, people know about that, they won't want me around, won't let me be useful enough for them to let me 'ave a safe place, would maybe worry about me being a risk to them by being too smart, being too good with weapons and such. And I'm still small; not so much as when I was twelve, acourse, when even being bigger probably wouldn't 'ave 'elped any, but still small enough it makes sense to try and 'ave someone on my side if things go bad.

So, you see, masks are important, and I make ruddy good ones. Can switch them around as I need to, stack them on top of each other, pull out one, tuck the others away for when I need it again. Some are full masks, some those little 'alf-masks, some just like bushy eyebrows, or big moustache, or big warts or things like that, bits and bobs, you know; they all do the job, distract from what's underneath.

Problem is, when you 'ave so many, it takes a lot of remembering to be sure you're using the right one for the job, so you make one general purpose mask, one that you wear pretty much all the time you aren't wearing a special one, and the others, well, most of them fit right on top. The basic one is sorta bland, blank, like you're waitin for a bus but with not much of anything on your mind. Mischievious can go over that one, or innocent, or friendly or eager. Sometimes all of those at once; that's a combination I wear a lot, serves a lot of purposes.

I've made a whole set of new ones since I been working with the Warden and the guys; ones that work on missions; got one that's all cold and self-important, used that one when I was in one of those Gestapo uniforms. All the power in the world, those who wear those uniforms seem to 'ave; scary, it is.

Sometimes, you think back and realize it's been a long time since you've NOT worn a mask. Sometimes, you start wondering if there's anyone left inside, or if it's just a stack of masks walking around pretending to be real. That can be kinda scary, wondering if YOU aren't really there anymore, just a stack of masks. Know what's scarier? Wondering if you even KNOW who YOU are, if you'd even recognize YOU in a mirror, if you took all those masks off.

The problem, if you want to call it a problem, started after I got to The Mansion, that big ugly 'ouse we stayed in during the war. The masks, well, they kept slipping. Not all the time, acourse, just sometimes. And I found I didn't much like wearing them anymore, around the guys, especially around the Warden. Not that I wanted 'im to see what was under all the masks; no, that'd do no one any good, and figured 'e wouldn't much like what 'e saw anyway. Maybe they'd not want me around anymore, they got a good look. Still, it just felt wrong, somehow.

And around 'er, Meghada. She's the one at the cottage. A real blistery reputation she 'ad, 'no funny business, no coming to the cottage thinking she'd put out, no taking liberties,' and she lived up to it.

We 'adn't been there but a month or so when Sergeant Major was telling the Lieutenant about the guy from the night before being taken off in an ambulance, and said it weren't the first time, not by a long shot. The locals, they didn't try anything on, not after the first couple when she first moved to the village years ago as just a girl, but the guys on the Base, they kept 'aving new ones rotate in, and seems each lot 'ad one who just 'ad to learn the 'ard way. Some she stopped down at The Doves, the local pub; put them in their place and they backed off. Still, ever so often, the ambulance would show up and another one who didn't learn so easy got carried off.

I'd seen 'er, seemed to remember 'er from somewhere, and got curious. Started watching for 'er; she was gone a lot, no one said where, but when she was around, when I could get away, I'd edge up on that stone wall what surrounds the garden there, back under the trees, in the shadows, and watch while she worked in the garden, or wrote on that pad she always 'ad on the table there, or worked on piecework. And listened. Listened while she sang, while she played that guitar of 'ers. Listened while she talked things over with 'erself; whole conversations she'd 'ave, sometimes, some bloody odd ones, too, and only about 'alf in any language I could understand. And, well, I kept going back; couldn't seem to keep from it and started talking back; not out loud, acourse, but in my 'ead, and the talks we 'ad that way, seemed more real somehow than the ones I 'ad with other people out loud. Yeah, I thought it was more than a little mad, myself, but that's just the way it was.

Then, one day, she was working and talking about 'aving tea, and somehow, she was talking to me, looking directly at me, and 'eld out 'er 'and, and I was down off the wall, inside the garden proper, and, well, what can I say, we got to be friends, 'er becoming a friend like I'd never 'ad before.

It got worse and worse, trying to keep those masks in place; seemed wrong, somehow, like cheating. Now, don't get me wrong; don't 'ave anything against cheating at dice, or a game of cards or the like; but with 'er? That was just different. She ended up on one visit, me being inside the 'ouse by then, where she didn't let many, telling me I could leave the masks aside, put them in the basket at the kitchen door, if I wanted to; that that was where she left 'ers when she was 'ome. Didn't 'appen all at once, acourse; I started with the 'cheery' one, let myself show some of the dismals, some of the worry, and, can you believe it, IT DIDN'T CHANGE ANYTHING! She was still comfortable with me there, still wanted me there. Left off the 'mischievious' one next; no real call for it there, and I've a bit of that in the 'real me' I found out was still there, buried under all those masks, anyway, enough for us to have a bit of a laugh over things.

A long time later, she told me that each mask I 'ad, I had at least a bit of that quality in the real me; that I must 'ave, in order to build my masks, and I guess that makes sense. What never make sense? She liked me just fine without the masks; didn't turn me away if for some reason I NEEDED the masks, just accepted who I needed to be, wanted to be when I climbed over that garden wall. 

One by one, the masks came off, there in that cottage, mine and 'ers, and eventually the Warden's, Craig's masks came off too. With 'im, it was sometimes a bit touchy; I mean, sometimes 'e'd be there as the Warden, to talk with 'er about some mission or problem, to fetch me back to The Mansion; sometimes, 'e'd be there just as 'Craig', friend, more than friend.

Came to be, Meghada thought we needed a better way of telling, to keep things right, to set off misunderstandings. Now, 'e's a real gentleman, Craig is, 'e comes inside, that cap comes off. But, way she worked it out, if it ends up in that basket with our masks, then it's Craig come to call; if it ends up on that rack by the door, it's the Lieutenant, and it's friendly, still but business. Forgot, 'e did, a time or two, and got a real 'urt look on 'is face when I kept my distance, kept calling 'im 'Warden' stead of 'Craig', til 'e realized. Then 'e laughed just a bit, took and moved that cap to where it should be, and then I didn't keep my distance anymore.

See, 'e's more than a friend, somehow, e's my lover, just as she is. Don't ask me why they want me, they just do. To 'ear them talk, they're just as taken aback by all this as I am; just as surprised that I want THEM, and me thinking back, well, who wouldn't?? Especially, since I'm not wearing so many of the masks, (yeah, I still 'ave a couple I 'aven't been able to shed yet, but I'm working on it) seems I'm, well, I'm the one they look to, the one being in charge, when we're all 'ere. Me, then Meghada, then Craig; never would 'ave thought it would be that way, but it is. And, strange enough, they both like it that way, just fine.

Oh, I still 'ave the masks, still use them all these years later, even now after the war is over. We stuck together, the team; what we do now, they're called 'consultations' instead of 'missions', but we still do a lot of the same kinda stuff. When we're done, though, we come back to the Cottage, not The Mansion. Now, it's The Cottages, all built out, room for the whole team, each with their own space; we're a family as well as a team.

And me? I'm in that first cottage, the one where I learned I don't 'ave to keep wearing the masks; I'm there, with Meghada, with Craig, my two loves. The youngsters are in another section right close by; we 'ave four of them now. The youngest are twins, Molly Lynn and Charles Rainey - named after my aunt Moll and my mum and Craig's sister too, and after Casino and Chiefy. Next oldest, that's Marya Couran, our M'Coury, bright girl that she is, just like 'er mother, and the aunt and godmother she'd named after; a lot like 'er mother in a few other ways too. And our Randy, Randall Craig, well, our oldest, 'e's unique, that's what 'e is. Part me, part Craig, part Meghada, they all are, nevermind there's those will tell you that's not possible. We know different. 

Yes, best choice I ever made, one I'll never regret, not in this life, not for all time.


End file.
